


Pagan gets a little dirty

by nobody_is_typing



Category: Far Cry (Video Games), Far Cry 4
Genre: BDSM, Blood Play, Breeding Kink, Daddy Kink, Dom/sub, Dumbification, F/M, Gen, Impact Play, Mentions of drugs, Name Calling, Overstimulation, PRACTICE RACK FRIENDS, Pain Kink, cum kink, low key domestic fluff, marking kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:08:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26296921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nobody_is_typing/pseuds/nobody_is_typing
Summary: Absolute and utter filth. There is no plot. Mentions of starting a family but just really kinky sex.
Relationships: Pagan Min/Reader, Pagan Min/You
Comments: 5
Kudos: 44





	Pagan gets a little dirty

Pagan always fucked you like he hated you, had you been some woman off the streets of Kyrat, you’d be sure he was going to put a bullet in your head as soon as he came. But no. He’d choke you with his hands and on his cock, suck marks so dark into your skin it looked like he beat you, and left you so dizzyingly satisfied that you would wonder if it was the drugs or if he’d finally cut off enough blood to your head that you were done for. Pagan would pop a little blue pill (not that he needed it) and cum until he had nothing left to give your greedy little cunt, going until you were a sloppy, incoherent, fucked out mess. 

Tonight was no different. 

He’s leaning over you, sweat sticking his hair to his forehead as he bares his teeth, your legs thrown over his shoulders as his hands support his weight on either side of your head. Fingers clenched in the delicate sheets as your own grasp at the muscle of his thighs, your head tossed back and your eyes trying so desperately to shut from the overwhelming pleasure he’s currently giving you. 

But Pagan had given you an order. And you don’t disobey Pagan Min. 

As if on queue, he snaps “look at me, girl.” With an intensity and ferocity that you don’t typically hear anywhere else but outside your bedroom. Unless he’s having his way with you in the kitchen, or the dining room, or- well. Anywhere that he doesn’t intend to immediately take you. 

“Sorry Da-”

“NO.” His right hand cracks across your cheek and you grin as he slows his hips, he always comments on how tight you get when he slaps you. “Sluts don’t talk, sluts take orders. Sluts do. As. They. Are. Told.” Accentuating each word with a hard thrust that sends your sweat-soaked figure jerking across the sheets, he pauses long enough to readjust his leverage on your body before he goes back to it. This time, his thrusts are slow but firm, pressing his hips as tightly against yours a possible before grinding in leisurely circles. Stirring up the cum he’s already released as far as his considerable length can go. 

Biting your lip, you nod quickly, keeping your eyes locked on his as your teeth sink into your already tender skin. Hard enough to draw blood that slips down to the corner of your mouth where Pagan eyes it like he’s some type of vampire. Reaching down to yank your lip out of your mouth before kissing you. Hard and rough. Pagan resumes your previous action, biting down so that the taste of copper and the odd smoothness of blood overcomes your mouth. 

His hand, fingertips smearing the rapidly cooling crimson across the column of your neck, settles under your jaw and forces your head to an angle that allows him to devour you more comfortably. You’re bent in half at this point and you can feel his cum leaking out of your abused pussy, making you feel even filthier than this past hour or so has already gotten you. 

Has it been an hour? Is it even the same day? You can’t exactly stop to ask even if you wanted to. 

“What’s going on in that stupid little head of yours, hm?” Pagan hums, tongue dragging across the corner of your mouth before sucking lightly on the cut still oozing slightly. Honestly, you’re not sure if you can even form a coherent thought, let alone speak a proper sentence. You’ve taken too long to reply. His hand squeezes the sides of your neck, cutting off the blood supply to your brain and sincerely not helping the cause at all. “Do you need Daddy to help? Do you need me to think for you now? Are you that fucked up on my cock?”

Moan. That’s all you can do as he rocks his hips. 

“Say it, little girl. Tell Daddy what you want.” Again, you don’t answer fast enough. “Fine. It’s a good thing I know what you need.” Pagan doesn’t release your face, he instead turns your head to the side and grazes his teeth against your ear as he ruts against you. Your thighs burn from the stretch of being bent the way you are but you know he doesn’t care and if he doesn’t care then neither do you. 

God, you want to cum, the pressure building in your cunt is bordering on painful. You’re not sure how many times you’ve reached orgasm tonight (today?) but that is one thing your lover will never deny you. No, he’ll have you screaming until you’re hoarse and hoarse until you’re incoherent, you’ve lost your voice on several occasions. And he does so adore it when you’re loud for him. “Cum-” It hurts to speak and you wonder for a moment if he can even hear you. But he does.

“Cum? Do you want to cum? Do you want me to cum? God knows you can’t hold any more.” To prove his point, he sits up and releases your legs to press right above your pelvis, dragging his cock through the thick mess that flows despite the tightness gripping his length. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. If you maximize the chances of getting pregnant then you need to do your best to keep everything inside, hm?” This time, when he begins to thrust, he wraps his arms around your waist and buries his face between your breasts. Pagan’s clearly reaching for his own orgasm, the final one to signal the end of this filthy, depraved, and carnal event that had left you thoroughly wrecked. 

You blink. And it’s bright outside. Pagan is laid out next to you, the both of you clean and your bed linens fresh; the only evidence of the events of the evening are the bruises and the intense ache, bordering on pain, that radiates from between your thighs. A low hum followed by several gentle, loving kisses along your forehead let you know that he’s awake as well. “Did-” oof, you sound rough. You clear your throat and try again. “Did I pass out again?”

“Yes, my dear. Drooling by the time I was done.” He teases, brushing your hair out of your face as you snuggle closer to his chest, fighting the chilly mountain air threatening the warmth of your bed. The two of you sit in silence for a while, listening to the chimes hung about the room as the jingle in the light breeze, the rustle of the tapestries nearly lulls you back to sleep. “I’ll have to be much gentler with you when you’re pregnant.” He’s smiling softly, the hand that isn’t supporting his head is stroking the bare skin of your hip. 

“Not too gentle.” Smiling back, you expect him to make some half-hearted joke but he instead gets very serious. 

“I would never willingly hurt you in ways you didn’t want, nor would I ever lay an ill-intentioned finger on our child.” 

“Pagan, I know.” Leaning up, you kiss his chin, noticing the soreness in your lip as you do so. “I trust you.”

“Good.” He hums, the smile returning to his face. 

“I was thinking we could name them Deva if we have a girl; it’s strong, pretty, and commands respect.” 

Pagan seems to think it over for a second, repeating it a few times as though he’s testing the weight of it on his tongue. But eventually, he nods, “I think it’s appropriate.”

“Yay!” You grin, kissing his chin again as you wiggle happily. “Now I just need to get pregnant.” 

“Love, that will happen in time, for now we will simply enjoy ourselves.” He pulls your head to his chest, stroking your hair and essentially giving you permission to fall back asleep.

“Will you sing me that song I like?” Your voice is quiet, eyes drooping at the mere thought of being able to sleep again. Without responding to you, Pagan begins singing softly, he’s not necessarily good and you can’t understand the words, but the rumble of his chest and the tone he carries brings you comfort. It’s easy for you to close your eyes after that.


End file.
